


The Shadow of Lost

by ScarlettLimps



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Politics, Class Differences, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettLimps/pseuds/ScarlettLimps
Summary: The Lords of London did not even know what had hit them.One moment they had been lounging in their gardens, sipping tea, and talking about the weather with the same detached indifference they talked of starving children that worked in their own factories.The next?Lord Thomas Marvolo Riddle found Hadrian Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

The lords of London didn’t even know what had hit them.

One moment they had been lounging in their gardens, sipping tea, and talking about the weather with the same detached indifference they talked of starving children that worked in their own factories.

The next?

They had been kneeling in front of the same child their lineage had once starved, and spat at. Taking orders from one who had risen from the ashes, who had been born with mud staining the face.

When had Thomas Marvolo Riddle slithered into their lives? No one knew. They could agree however on the fact that he had _slithered._ Like a snake watching its prey, softly hissing into their ears what they wanted to hear.

_What he wanted them to do._

It made perfect sense to those who thought themselves so clever. When Tom Riddle would phrase his commands like casual suggestions, and give orders disguised in their minds as their own inventions, they would think better of themselves. Think themselves wiser than their forefathers, and see Thomas in a better light.

They did not for once suspected of their own triviality in front of the shining sun that was Lord Riddle. They did know he was better, but this realization they considered their own wisdom, thinking themselves of high order for admitting someone’s greater worth.

What they didn’t realise was just how much _better_ Thomas Riddle was from them?

Or maybe it was more like they didn’t want to realise.


	2. Interesting?

Thomas Riddle did not like incompetence. Far from it. He did not find it _adorable_ or _sweet_ or _silly_ when people made mistakes. Certainly not when those mistakes cost him even minutely. It certainly explained his secretary’s presence in his office, standing before his desk with her head bowed low, and tears on the verge of falling from the glassy huge eyes.

He suspected it was genuine remorse that she showed. It did not matter though. Not when remorse would not bring back the fifteen minutes he had spent correcting the _spelling_ of Josue in the entire contract. They were overtaking the firm for Merlin’s sake, the least she could have done was spelt its name right, but apparently that was a bit too much to ask of people he paid to do their job.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“Remorse now is not going to help you, Ms Brown.” He said. “The best you can do is return to your office and start packing. It would save you time.”

Ms Brown started sobbing in the pathetic sort of way only women trying to blackmail lesser men ever did. It was another mistake she had made.

To think of him _trivial._

“Get out.” He said, sharply. “Get out of my sight right this instant.”

It was harsh, he could tell with the intensity Brown had grabbed her skirts and dashed from the room, letting the door slam before her, as she sniffled away, her cry growing louder, and then distant before all he could hear was the sound of ticking clock.

Before all he could hear was the sound of _wasted time_. 

Thomas Riddle took a deep breath. Fifteen minutes wasted was not the world lost, and he had known even before he had hired Lavender Brown that he could do better.

Certainly he wasn’t as good at hiring people as he had thought.

A moment passed. And then another.

_Better let experts handle it then,_ he thought with a sign and inched forward to pick the telephone. The numbers punched with long, sleek fingers while his eyes were closed.

Waiting for Lord Malfoy to pick.

It certainly wasn’t long.

“ _Good Morning.”_ Said the sleek bored drawl from the other side. “ _May I ask who I am speaking too?”_

Tom almost rolled his eyes as that. He had heard the same drawl for the past five years and had gotten used to it, in the past two. Lord Malfoy-Lucius Malfoy-the lord of one of the wealthiest most respected estates of London, was also one of the most infuriating and arrogant lords of all London. It had not surprised him when he had met him first, to perceive even before he had talked more than a sentence to see it.

Abraxus Malfoy hadn’t been a wise man after all. It was only natural his son would follow suit.

“Lucius.” Tom said, greeting softly. “This is Thomas speaking.”

The effect was instant. The bored drawl immediately became more focused, and intrigued.

“ _Lord Riddle!”_ Lucius exclaimed from the other side. “ _What a pleasant surprise? How may I help you?”_

Perhaps had this been any other day, or perhaps had Tom not spent the last twenty minutes fussing over a spelling mistake, he would have asked Lucius how his day had been.

But it wasn’t any other day unfortunately.

“Lucius. It’s always a pleasure to hear you.” Thomas said, flattering. “But I am afraid I have a little request to make of you today. I am in all reality quite embarrassed to ask it however.”

“ _Please, Tom.”_ Lord Malfoy said, not leaving any space for doubt. “ _There is no need for embarrassment among friends. I cannot stress this more. How can I be of use?”_

_Friends._

Well didn’t that make things much easier, now?

“You know Lucius.” He said, stitching his web. “How utterly useless secretaries can be sometimes?”

The hum of agreement from the other side encouraged Tom. He had thought it would take more than this to blind Lord Malfoy.

“ _Absolutely.”_ There was a pause, and then. “ _Is this the issue? You require a competent secretary?”_

Tom admitted letting some of his well perfected embarrassment creep into his voice now.

“You caught me Lucius.” He said, smirking when he could practically hear the smugness from the other side of the receiver. “I am in need of a competent assistant, and I have long learnt my own selections are of no use.”

He would never admit it but the reply that came from the other end relieved him.

_“You are in luck, Tom.”_ Lucius said, smugly. “ _I have just met a brilliant young lad, and he would be entirely perfect to our kind of work. He even carries decent blood. Hadrian Potter? Have you heard of him? His father ruined the name when he was just a child and was murdered along with his wife. Hadrian has been raised without the wealth of course, but I can see the blood of Fleamont lives in him. You must meet him.”_

Hadrian Potter did sound intriguing.

“I trust your opinion then, Lord Malfoy.” Tom said, as if he had surrendered. “If you would be so inclined to introduce us.”

“ _Of course, Tom.”_ Lucius agreed easily. “ _He has been invited as well to the evening ball on the fifth. I can very well see to your introductions then.”_

Saturday then. He could survive until then.

_“_ Thank you, Lucius. _”_ Tom said, almost genuinely. “I most grateful.”

“ _Nonsense, Lord Riddle.”_ Lucius said. “ _The pleasure is mine.”_

It certainly would be if Hadrian Potter lived up to his reputation. Tom had to admit that in all the five years he had known Lucius Malfoy, he had never once heard him this impressed with someone, especially not someone who was below station.

What had happened with the Potters had been unfortunate to say the least. James and Lilly Potter had been murdered in the fresh of the night by their own close friend Pettigrew, who squandered away the wealth and family estates under the pretence of being the manager. James’ trust of his friends had not helped this, and it was a long time before Sirius Black another close friend of Potters and then heir-now lord-of the estates of Black, had intervened.

By the time he had discovered of the Potters deaths it had been too late. All the family wealth had been squandered away, and nothing was left.

The young-then two-Hadrian Potter missing as well.

_And now he was back_. _After twenty two long years of not existing._

Now wasn’t that interesting?

* * *

Mereope Gaunt supposed that ultimately this was what her life would come to one day. She was waiting for it since years from the start. Knowing that all of it, _any of it,_ was too good for her to last long, it was indeed surprising how long it had lasted already.

If someone told her that she had been dreaming till now. She wouldn’t really be surprised. No. No she wouldn’t. Knowing herself, seeing the image that stared back in the mirror, feeling those expensive dresses, and satin gowns on her skin. She couldn’t have fooled herself for long. Mereope had absolutely nothing that was worth keeping.

Absolutely nothing that could have profited her brother to have endured her, and kept her for as long as he had.

_But he had_.

Morfin Gaunt was a man of wealth, but he wasn’t man worth wealth. Belonging to one of the oldest families in London, and then all England. He had enough, _enough_ money to spend lavishly for at least three lifetimes and still have a few thousand pounds of money left.

And that was exactly what the man did.

“Sister.” The man slurred, from his place on one of the sofas. He was balding now, miserably so with the increasing love for wine. “Bring me some wine, would you?”

She did as he told him, emptying yet another bottles into shiny glasses and bringing them over to where his brother reigned.

_Balding, stinking, lying, and squandering of riches that their father had left them._

But at least he was taking care of her, she thought with some disdain. He had taken her in even after she had ran away, taking care to not let the word get out about what she had done.

_Who she had._

At least Morfin could look in the mirror without being filled with disgust, without wanting to wretch his stomach down the sink, and cut his wrists. At least Morfin could look at young children without wanting to bawl his eyes out.

She was disgusting for doing what she had. For abandoning a child, like that.

_For abandoning her child like that._

She had been in love. Too muddied and blinded that she forgot that the useless, pale, frail skeleton of the girl that stared at her from inside the mirror each day was she herself. Forgotten that she had not stood a chance in front of him.

How could she when the man she had fallen for had been like that?

More beautiful than the night sky, more alluring than the wind. She had been fooled, she had fooled herself _._ Being promised a night under the sun, she had forgotten everything.

The result had not ended well.

He had used her, and then thrown her away. Treated her with the detached indifference that her brother saw her with. Knowing that she was _nothing._

But that thing that breathed in her stomach hadn’t been nothing.

Had it?

She didn’t know anymore.

* * *

Harry Potter was in all reality absolutely delighted at having received an invitation to one of those posh Malfoy balls. He was also entirely dismayed by it. He had not long ago realized that he absolutely _hated_ these proper parties the nobility treated themselves to. No. He was more of the blaring music, stinking sweat, dancing till the muscles pulsed with ache kind of lad.

His idea of fun certainly did not include clinking glasses, and passing veiled insults, and trying to decipher _fourteen_ different types of laughs.

It was pity thus that he was so good at it.

If Ron could see him now, wearing these thick silk robes, and moving with that ram rod straight back, and reigned down unruly hair, he would not even recognise him. Hermione would though. She might have been the daughter of a farmer, but there was not an iota of that typical helplessness in her. She had always known at the back of her mind that this was what Harry had always been destined for.

And she had hated it too. Stared at him when he had drunk _that power_ with starry eyes, and resented him for thinking them better.

They weren’t. He knew that.

_But they were, and Harry knew he could be too._

When Harry had left them, when he had become _Hadrian Potter,_ she had watched her leave with the kind of panic that a man saw his dying wife with. She had known he wouldn’t be coming back. She had _known_ it in his goodbyes, he had known it from the way Harry had stared at them for days before.

She hadn’t told Ron though, and for that he was grateful.

Harry wondered if in some dingy, run down part of the world, that lanky freckled boy still waited for his lankier, wild best friend.

He wondered if Ron realised till now that his Harry was dead.

And Hadrian had taken his place.

And now this invitation. Harry had been playing this game of nobility for long now, but this was the first time anyone substantial had noticed him. He had charmed Lucius Malfoy with his boldness, and silky intellect.

And he had known it had gone well, but this _well._ He hadn’t realised. Evening ball at the Malfoys was as prestigious as one could get.

And it was _merely_ a start.

A slow one seeing where he came from, but a good one anyhow. Harry could look these purebloods in the eyes and say he had earned what he had gotten, even if the things had been right he wouldn’t have needed to. He remembered his parents, remembered his mother’s kind face and blazing red hair. Remembered his father’s broken lullaby, and his mad unruly hair.

_The Potter curse._

He would make them proud. 

* * *

_Mr Hadrian J. Potter_

_I have been charmed, Sir, if I admit it myself. Your intellect is one to look for, and having found it I am not willing to let it go. You remind me of Fleamont Potter, your grandsire. I never had the pleasure to have met them man himself, but from what I remember of my father’s talks. He was one who my lord father had greatly admired and respected._

_It is therefore my utmost wish to introduce you to my son, Draco. He is of your age, and you will find one I wager can match your wit._

_The Malfoys do invite you with all honour to the Evening ball on the fifth of this month, starting from seven. It would be befitting of you to bring a date as well, after all we can’t let you go without dancing. Do send a reply._

_Lord Lucius Malfoy_

_Lord Lucius Malfoy_

_It was my pleasure to have made your acquaintance. I had only heard about you till now, but to see you and talk with you was very different, and certainly an experience I will remember. It would be an honour to meet your son. Something tells me that we might very get along._

_I will attend your ball, and bring along a date as well. I do need to dance after all._

_Hadrian J. Potter_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some appreciation. (*Puppy Eyes*) 
> 
> Also do you fanpeople like longer chapters?

**Author's Note:**

> I am really psyched about this fic. The changes and details will become clear as you read on. 
> 
> The main theme of the fic is politics, but do not fear. Tomarry will always be there, probably much more than you bargained become I am an addict. Do not be discouraged by green-eyes-less prologue. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments (love) will make me write more. Of course only if you like it. (*Innocent eyes*)
> 
> Read ON!!!


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